On Raglan Road on an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue
I saw the danger, yet I walked
Along the enchanted way
And I said, "Let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day"

On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay
Oh I loved too much, and by such, by such
Is happiness thrown away

I gave her the gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true
Gods of sound and storm
And word and tint I not did stint
For I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her long, black hair
Like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow
That I had ruled not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of day